


Searching

by panchostokes (badwolfrun)



Series: Nick/Greg Ficlets [16]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Comfort, Drunken Shenanigans, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 06:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20223634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfrun/pseuds/panchostokes
Summary: Hush now, Gregory, I am searching.





	Searching

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to rai-knightshade, who inspired and cheered me on in writing this. set in season early season 6. 
> 
> (leave it to me to write a fic based on a vine)

_ “Don’t you ever goof off? Do you ever get a little lost in life?” _

Nick didn’t know where he wanted to be, but he didn’t want to be in the lab, clocking in inhumane amounts of overtime although he had just had an awkward talk with Grissom about how he  _ couldn’t  _ work so much overtime, despite how much he claimed to understand Nick’s reasoning for wanting to. He didn’t want to be at home, hypnotized by hours of bird documentaries, trapped in a poisoned sanctuary that once felt like an escape from everything, but now felt like a prison, after spending  _ too  _ much mandatory time wandering aimlessly between its walls.

He didn’t want to be... _ anywhere _ . 

Or rather, anywhere  _ alone _ , he thought, as he found his clenched fist knocking on the door to Greg Sanders’ apartment. His fingers clenched around his leather jacket, a hand ran through his hair that he had just spent a few minutes styling-- _ “all of that effort, and for what, Nicky?” _ \--fingers scratched a freshly shaven chin, he almost missed the layer of scruff he had grown in the past few months, in blissful ignorance of his physical appearance.

His tongue waved over his bottom lip, which then curled into his mouth, settled beneath the top row of his teeth, and he bit down as he contemplated fleeing the scene. 

The door opened, and a sleepy-looking Greg Sanders dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers squinted at Nick. Nick found his eyes drifting up and down Greg’s body, searching for...something.

“Hey...what’s up?”

“Nothing, I, uh...just wanted to see if you...wanted to grab a b-bear--I mean beer?” Nick stuttered, suddenly feeling uneasy--Warrick and Sara already turned him down for a night of shenanigans, and now Greg was probably about to turn him away, too. Perhaps he was destined to spend the night in solitude, which of course would happen on the one night he wanted to come out of it.

“Yeah, ‘kay, gimme a minute,” Greg yawned, and shut his door again, leaving Nick to fidget with his jacket and ring on his hand in the hallway, further messing up his usually well-kept hair, and two minutes later, Greg reappeared, looking as if he had been up for hours versus a few minutes. A contagious smile spread across his face from ear to ear.

“Where you wanna go?” Greg asked as they got into Nick’s car.

“Anywhere’s good.”

_ Long as I’m with you _ .

They found themselves going to their usual haunt, a bar in the heart of the city that was basically owned by the LVPD, then hopped to another bar, then to a casino, and then, finally, in an effort to get some silence--the noise of the crowds in the bars was making Nick’s blood boil beneath his skin--they found themselves in the waking hours of the vast desert, overlooking a gorgeous Nevada sunrise, sitting on the hood of Nick’s car with a six-pack between them, down to the last beer.

“Whoa! Y-You see tha’?” Nick lept to his feet, grabbing Greg by the lapel of his jacket. His accent was exaggerated, slurry. “I need’tah get a better look, need’tah get higha…”

“What the fu--Nick!” Greg, at first aghast that Nick had jumped on his back, but then wheezed in buzzed laughter as Nick put his hand to his forehead, looking out into the horizon. His voice firm, an octave deeper, sent Greg’s already flushed cheeks into a tight smile.

“Hush now, Gregory, I am  _ searching _ .”

“Sear-urch-ing for what?” Greg belched.

“The elusive greater roadrunner--”

“As opposed to the  _ lesser  _ roadrunner?”

“You  _ laugh _ , but it-it’s true, G, there is actually a lesser roadrunner! But that’s not why we’re here--” Nick bent his head down towards Greg’s neck, Greg coughed at the stench of alcohol but his lips curved upwards nonetheless, feeling Nick’s warm breath spread goosebumps along the back of his neck.

“It runs up to speeds of twenty miles per hour. Good thing I can run up to twenty-one!” 

Nick jumped off of Greg’s back, began to sprint before tumbling on a rock, landing face forward into the dirt, into a fit of laughter.

“Okay, Wile E. Coyote, you’re cut off,” Greg giggled as he extended a hand to Nick, but Nick fumbled as he attempted to stand up, accidentally brought Greg with him down to the ground--rolled him over, Nick found himself on top of the giggling man.

“Caughtcha, you little roadrunner,” Nick growled playfully. Greg grabbed Nick’s jacket, pulled him closer, the tips of their noses brushing against each other. The giggles faded and Greg had a dangerous look in his eyes as he suddenly put on a serious expression in the face of being prey to the wild dog on top of him.

“ _ Meep meep _ ,” he replied, in an absolute deadpan tone, before Nick’s body exploded with uproarious laughter.

The desert echoed with their laughter for hours to come, long after they had left and found themselves at the last destination of their excursion, Frank’s diner, where they were sobering up with plenty of coffee and food, though their laughter hadn’t quite subsided. 

“You know, it’s just...it’s great to see you like this, man,” Greg remarked, downing his fifth cup of coffee. 

“Like what?”

“You know, laughing, carefree... _ goofing off _ .” 

A sheepish smile blossomed between blushed cheeks.

“Yeah. You were right,” he cleared his throat, but ended the statement there.

“Right about what?”

“About...getting lost in life, you know? Feels good, feels... _ different,  _ but a-a good different, ya know?” 

Greg’s eyes shone, bathed in the sunlight peeking through the blinds. Nick couldn’t help but stare, even though he knew it wasn’t exactly polite, as they continued to talk about nothing in particular, until they got to the point of exhaustion where they were overtired, almost delusional. 

“Did you ever find it?”

“Find what?”

“What you were searching for?” 

The noise of the world was just white noise, static, his eyes seemed to focus on Greg and Greg alone, and it was in this moment Nick realized that what he was searching for was something he hadn’t truly felt since a few months back, and with his clumsy, jittery, weary hand he grabbed at that desire, that  _ connection.  _

“Yeah. I did.”


End file.
